Fragments
by UntoldStories113
Summary: REALIZING the power of Laughter was not the problem. USING it was. (Fills the gap between the end and epilogue of MI, so expect spoilers for both movies.) (Will be written during NaNoWriMo'14 and Camp NaNoWriMo April'15. For more info, see my profile.)
1. Prologue

**Timeline note:** Set between the shredding of Boo's door and the epilogue of MI.

**Rating: **T for dark stuff. (At least references to torture, but maybe more; haven't decided yet.)

* * *

"Don't _tell_ him that, Celia!"

The faint voice dragged him out of his feverish illusions. Slowly blinking his eye open, he recognized reality for what it was, and tried to leave the cackling and clanking in his dreams behind. In fact, it was quiet in the room, completely silent except for the agitated voices drifting over from the adjacent one.

"Sulley, look, I _know_ you feel guilty about this, but…"

"Guilty doesn't cut it. I left him to _die_! Some friend I am!"

"…but I'm sure he'd want to know."

This was not his own room, Mike realized. It was Celia's. And this was her bed - he recognized the smell. Not that he had never woken up here, mind you, but why was it so _cold_? Celia did not like temperatures as low as this.

"He's too weak right now. After everything that happened, the least I can do is not to burden him with something like this."

He tried to get up to turn off the air conditioning, but then he remembered the energy crisis, and that the current situation at Monsters Inc had exacerbated it. All households were advised to save energy as much as possible. The air conditioning was off. But then why was it so _cold_?

"You mean all you can do is not to _lie_ to him!"

Only now did he realize that he had never actually made it out of bed. His body had just stayed down and refused to do what it was told. Weakly raising one hand to his forehead, he could feel it burning up even before he touched it. The room was not cold at all. It was just that he was in some sort of horrible condition.

And then it all came back to him. The Himalayas. Forcing himself through the days after that. His vision getting hazier. Losing consciousness.

"It's not _lying_, Celia! I'm _gonna_ tell him, just not _yet_!"

Now he understood that they were arguing about _him_. What was it Sulley could not tell him? The mere thought was ridiculous. They told each other _everything_.

On the second try, he made it out of bed somehow, and when the world had stopped tilting, he wobbled over to the door that had been left slightly ajar, and into the hallway.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that alone! He wouldn't want you to!"

Their voices were indeed coming from the kitchen, so he made his way there, clutching the wall for support, and smiled when he heard Sulley's reply drifting through the open kitchen door, one that was infinitely calmer than the argument that had preceded it.

"But I'm _not_ alone, Celia! You're there, and the guys, and even mom! And my colleagues are all…"

"Employees, Sulley!"

"Er, right. My employees are all very supportive. They know we're gonna pull through. We just need a bit of time."

"Pull through what?" Mike mumbled when he reached the kitchen.

The way they both flinched was actually kind of amusing. They had not expected him to join the conversation. For a moment, they both stared at him, but then Celia shook her head with a wry smile and approached him.

"Googley Bear, you should be in bed," she scolded, leaning over him in some sort of motherly gesture. "Don't you worry, Sulley's got things under control."

Credit where credit was due - she did _not_ just betray Sulley's trust before she had convinced him that Mike did need to know whatever it was that was wrong.

"Didn't sound like it," he slurred, blinking to keep her in focus.

Celia sent an apologetic look back over her shoulder, but Sulley did not seem angry. Which was good, Mike supposed; he did not want this argument to escalate into an actual fight, especially not for _his_ sake.

Sulley also came over and placed a hand on Mike's forehead, obviously to check his temperature. "Don't worry, Mikey, things are just a little hectic at the company. It's the inevitable pitfalls of a change in management, unfamiliarity with the new type of work… stuff like that."

"Sul," Mike huffed, batting his friend's hand away like he would an annoying insect, "I might be sick, but I'm not an _idiot_. If it was just that…" He paused, blinking again until the haze had cleared. "If it was just that," he then repeated, a little more slowly, "there would be no reason why you couldn't tell me."

Sulley sighed. "Why are you always so stubborn?"

"I'm _not_," Mike deadpanned, not missing the irony.

They both chuckled at his snarkiness, and Sulley gave him a playful nudge. "Your sense of humor is back," he observed.

"Never lost it," Mike quipped, then crossed his arms. "Well?"

Sulley rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, fine, it's just a little hitch with technology, okay? Laughter is a little, well, a little more, er, _powerful_ than we had thought. But don't worry, everyone's fine. I just… it's…" Again, he sighed. "Well, let's just say that when you're back on your feet… I'm gonna need your help," he finally muttered.

Ah, _that_ was why Sulley had wanted to keep him out of the loop.

It would be up to him to fix the mess.

* * *

**Note:** This is the prologue to my next multi-chapter story, and yes, it's the one I announced in Volte-Face. The rest of it is not written yet, so updates will be slow. To stay up-to-date, as usual, just put me on author alert or follow my Twitter account UntoldStoriesMU.


	2. Chapter 1

All right, a few **important notes** you should read before starting:

\- This will most likely be edited later! (Including the chapter title.) That's because the story isn't fully written; I'm continuing (and hopefully finishing) it right now for Camp NaNoWriMo. I just noticed that I keep promising you big stories but take forever to write them, and this chapter was more or less done, so yeah.

\- There's no telling when chapter two will be posted. You have been warned.

\- You should be familiar with MI (and MU), as this "fills the gap" at the end and I'll assume you can recognize subtle references.

\- You might want to consider (re-)reading the prologue for this, or maybe not - both choices will make for quite a different reading experience. (By the way, I'll go back and edit it later today; so please don't be confused if things change.)

\- Thanks to StoryLover149 for the betaread of this chapter! But I worked on it afterwards, so she can't lay any claim to the errors still present. ;)

(**End of important notes.** For people who skip them anyway. ;) )

Okay, everyone set? In that case: Enjoy!

* * *

The disadvantage about breaking the fever was that he now consciously registered the nightmares.

He wasn't sure where they came from. Well, yeah, okay, he was. He knew exactly what they were about. There were many words for what Randall had done to him, and none of them were pretty. Kidnapping. Torture. Murder attempts. But other than that one moment, when he'd been sure that this horrible machine was about to do, er, _something_ to him, he'd bounced back just fine. He hadn't even been aware how much all of that had affected him.

There had been more important matters to deal with. Like Boo's safety. The conspiracy in their company. Or finding a way not to destroy his and Sulley's future entirely.

His girlfriend's voice shook him out of his thoughts. "Googley, why are you brooding?"

He hadn't noticed her entering the bathroom, but one look into the mirror - which he could actually see on the little stool she always kept in here for him, despite the furniture being custom-made for a taller monster - confirmed her presence behind him, so he quickly spat away a mouthful of toothpaste. "A lot has happened in the last few days," he answered, not in a conscious attempt to throw her off, but he really didn't know what in particular to offer in reply. He was still trying to sort it all out.

Now she came closer, so that she could wrap her arms around him from behind and let her snakes each plant a small peck on whatever part of him they could reach. "Yeah, but you missed most of it."

"Ah, no, I mean…" he fumbled, then sighed. A lot had most likely happened in _those_ days, too, but he'd been talking about the ones he actually remembered. Contemplating her words, he quickly washed away the rest of the toothpaste. "How long _was_ I out, exactly?" he then prodded.

"About a week…" she muttered, and when he turned around, he could see pain shimmering in her eye. She'd been afraid for him. Terrified.

He had done this to her. He had not taken proper care of himself, had overworked himself despite having to rest after that whole ordeal, and as a result, his girlfriend had had to suffer for it.

"Shmoopsie-Poo, do I tell you often enough that I love you?" he breathed, gently pulling her down for a kiss, a real one this time.

She let him, but she didn't put much enthusiasm into it, either. "I shouldn't demand that you do," she finally said.

He knew her well enough to decipher that. Now that she'd realized that his behavior towards her hadn't been neglect or carelessness but a full-blown life-and-death situation, she was feeling guilty for pressuring him about it.

"True," he agreed as he hopped off the stool. "But I like saying it. And if I'm acting like an idiot and leave you out of important stuff, you _should_ demand an explanation at the very least."

She chuckled at that, but it didn't last long. "Are you sure you should go back to work already?" she asked as they made their way to the kitchen. "Maybe you should rest for another day or two."

Again, he sighed. "Sulley needs me. At least I'm sure about _that_." He faintly remembered talking to his friend, but everything was vague. He couldn't even picture Sulley's expression when he'd been talking. Something about someone dying? No, wait, about someone leaving. But one didn't exclude the other, did it? "No one's dead, right?"

"Of course not!" she assured him, but it was a little too quick, a little too alarmed. He knew she wouldn't lie to him about matters like this one, but something about her demeanor made him pretty sure that he couldn't take everyone's continued survival for granted, either. Which would've sounded laughable to himself not so long ago, but considering recent events...

"What time is it?" he muttered, throwing a glance at her clock when they reached the kitchen. "Did Sulley change the shifts?" Drat, he really needed info on the current situation at work.

She shook her head, and the snakes scowled at her for it as they got thrown around in all directions. "No, there was no point. Everyone was used to the current ones. Don't worry, we still have plenty of time for breakfast."

With yet another sigh, he started pulling foodstuffs out of her fridge and pantry without really paying attention. "Well, then let's enjoy it." He felt as if he should. He was pretty sure that he wouldn't like the state he would find the company in when he got back.

* * *

From afar, at least the building appeared to be completely the same. Not that there was any point in changing its appearance, but he was still kind of relieved about the small reassurance as they walked across the parking lot.

The letters above the large double door had been taken off, though. There was no Scaring going on here any longer. That they cared was now expressed by different means.

The entrance hall seemed a bit less crowded to him than before. And that was not his imagination; Celia had prepared him for this. The employees of Monsters Inc. now were indeed fewer in number. Many had left to work for one of the other Scream Factories. But many had also stayed. For all of Waternoose's faults, the guy _had_ managed to make them all loyal to the company. And now that Sulley was in charge, that loyalty remained unbroken.

While Celia took her place at the reception desk, Mike quickly scanned the entire hall, but he couldn't spot Sulley anywhere, and his brothers weren't in sight, either. Which was a shame, really; their adorably childlike behavior could've really brightened his mood right now. "So _did_ Sulley take over Waternoose's office or did he move in elsewhere?" he absently asked Celia, and waved back at a few people who had just spotted him and seemed delighted about it.

"Well, he's the one pulling the strings now," she pointed out as she righted a stack of papers. "So why wouldn't he? And I suppose he's there right now; you should probably go talk to him."

As Mike had no idea what his job currently was, he figured that was as good a course of action as any. "Will I see you at lunch?" he asked, unable to keep the way-too-hopeful note out of his voice.

And it didn't really come as a surprise that she caught it, nor that she immediately looked up from her work to smile at him. "Of course you will. Have a good day, sweetie!"

"You, too, Shmoopsie!" he returned the sentiment and blew a small kiss over the desk before wandering off.

It took him a moment to remember where Watern-… Sulley's office actually _was_. In the days it had still been Waternoose's, Mike hadn't spent an awful lot of time there. If anything important had come up, it had always been Sulley who'd been called over, not he, what with the favorites thing and stuff.

Ah, no, wait, third corridor to the right, follow through to the end, turn left… yeah, he could manage. There weren't that many people in the corridors either, he noted on his way, and now that did bother him. Shouldn't they all be coming to work right now? But he _was_ a bit early, he supposed.

Technology trouble, Sulley had said, Mike still knew that much. So it sounded as if, in the week he'd missed, Sulley had gotten everyone sorted and people had picked up their work again. Astonishing that that process had only taken a week, but he knew as well as Sulley probably did that with the crisis and everything, energy collection could not stand still even a second longer than was absolutely necessary.

No, people _had_ to be back at work. If it was still unclear who was supposed to do what, there wouldn't even have been any technology involved in the first place.

But he wasn't a technology kind of guy. Actually, he really wasn't sure what he would be doing. A week ago, Sulley had been hinting at putting him with the Laughter gatherers - who were still looking for an appropriate name to call themselves - but he wasn't getting his hopes up about that. It was way too close to Scaring, so he was pretty sure that something would keep him from doing that yet again. But other than that? Would he stay an assistant, but for a Laughter gatherer? Would he be needed in another support job? Would Sulley promote him to a management position? He really had no idea.

Nah, Sulley wouldn't do the management thing to him. He knew Mike was a hands-on kind of guy.

In his silent contemplation, Mike almost walked past the office, but halted in his tracks when he spotted the shiny new nameplate reading "James P. Sullivan - Chief Executive Officer" in bold letters. With a smile, he reached for the handle, but remembered to knock at the last second.

"Come in," he heard Sulley's voice drifting through the wood, and somehow, he felt as if that was the best thing he had heard all day. But as he pushed the door open, he found himself face to face with half the board of directors instead of the tall, blue guy he had expected. So perplexed was he by all those sets of eyes suddenly staring at him that it took him a moment to spot his friend at the back of the room.

"Mike!" Sulley exclaimed quietly, which sounded paradoxical but was exactly what he was doing, some indecipherable emotion vibrating in his voice. "Good to see you, buddy! We were just finished. Give us a minute, will you?"

Mike just managed a numb nod, and then found a sofa that he could wait on while watching Sulley bid farewell to each of those guys individually. It didn't sit right with him that he had to _wait_ to talk to _Sulley_. His friend had always been available, as long as Mike cared to remember, and immediately, he despised this whole revolution business a bit. Even though he knew that was silly, of course.

The obligatory courtesy went on for a while, so Mike let his feet dangle a bit and took a look around the room. It was larger than he remembered, and full of random stuff that had obviously been dumped on Sulley for immediate attention but then pushed to the bottom of the priority list due to lack of time. There were also a few still photographs hanging on the walls which were showing people who looked like they might belong to the Waternoose family. The whole room was screaming at him that Sulley had had zero time to properly move in.

The click of the door startled him back into reality, and when he looked up, he found himself alone with Sulley. A little belatedly, he realized that he probably should've said goodbye to important people like these as well, but was given no time to dwell on it, for Sulley immediately came over and wrapped him in a crushing embrace.

He wasn't sure if he should be feeling incredible or apprehensive. "Sul," he gasped, "can't breathe…"

"Sorry," Sulley mumbled and released him, but the fierce gaze never left his eyes. "You sure you're okay? Fever's gone down? No hallucinations? No chill?"

Mike blinked at him. "I had hallucinations?" Maybe his condition had been worse than he had realized.

Come to think of it, Sulley's couldn't be much better. He seemed tired. Weary.

"Well, you were talking in your sleep…" Sulley began, but then trailed off, and Mike got the distinct feeling that his friend wasn't willing to elaborate.

Well, whatever. "I'm fine, Sul, or I wouldn't be here."

He was relieved when Sulley burst into hearty laughter at his words. "Sure, Mikey, good thing you never push yourself too far." But as with Celia earlier this morning, the merriment didn't last for long. Everyone was stressed around here.

The smirk disappearing as quickly as it had come, Sulley went back to and around his desk, motioning for him to follow, and Mike debated with himself whether to join his friend on the side that was facing the door, but then, with a sigh and another small bout of resentment, sank into a chair on the opposite side.

Sulley was shuffling with a stack of papers. "You'll be pleased to know that I'm not firing you," he started, more flippantly than his solemn mood would've suggested.

Mike had to crack a smile. "To be honest, I didn't really expect you to."

Sulley briefly looked up from the papers, but his attention was still elsewhere. He seemed to be looking for something. "Well, it's not like I _could_, even if I wanted to. You're too important - not just to me, I mean - and everybody loves you. I'd have people rioting."

Mike raised half his brow at that. "We're talking about the same guy, yes?" Sure, he had friends here, but it wasn't as if most people paid him much attention.

Sulley gave a sigh. They'd had conversations like this one before. "Anyway, in the long run, what would you say about being put with the Comedians?"

For a moment, Mike stopped breathing. "With the what?" Sulley couldn't be implying what it sounded like, could he?

Sulley shrugged. "It's what Art started calling himself, and then it just kinda stuck. You know, Laughter gathering? Looks to me like you were born for the job."

Mike felt his eye starting to water. "I… well… sure. Yeah, I'd… I'd love that," he breathed.

And of course Sulley picked up on how teary-eyed he was getting. "If you'd rather do something else…" he started.

But Mike vehemently shook his head. Didn't Sulley _see_? "No, I… this is just… it's like _Scaring_," he choked out.

Being in the human world. Gathering energy. The method might be different, yes, but it was, in essence, the very same job. The job he'd always thought he'd lost forever.

Sulley stared at him for a moment, but then he smiled. "You know, I hadn't thought about that."

That made it even better! It meant that Sulley wasn't offering him this position out of charity, pity, or even friendship - no, Sulley thought he actually _belonged_ there!

Trying and failing to be inconspicuous about it, Mike briefly wiped at his eye. "And before that?" In the long run, Sulley had said. He hadn't missed that.

Sulley was now looking decidedly uncomfortable. "Well, er… I, I would really like to let you do that immediately, but, um, the current situation… if you'd rather…"

"Sul," Mike interrupted with a smirk. "I don't think I get to choose. If I gathered that correctly, you're my boss now, right?" Weird as that felt.

Sulley fidgeted. "Well, not officially, no. Everything is kinda makeshift here at the moment. Right now, I'm just 'Waternoose's replacement.' But I know what you're gonna ask next, and yes, it looks like I'll be properly voted into office soon."

Mike spread his arms wide. "Then it's not as if I could refuse, right?"

"Well, you could resign," Sulley joked, but it was obvious that his heart wasn't in it. And indeed, a moment later, he was back to that almost crushing seriousness. "…it's so hard to tell you what to do," he muttered.

"It's hard to take," Mike admitted with a smile. He wasn't entirely sure if he was joking there or not.

Sulley threw him a look. "Can't we, I don't know, work something out? I'm sure you know better than I do what to…" But he fell silent when he spotted the look on Mike's face.

"Sul," he growled, "if you _dare_ favoring me over any of the others, I swear you're gonna _seriously_ damage our friendship."

Sulley stared at him, stared with wide, shimmering eyes.

Mike frowned. The reaction unnerved him a little, but he sensed that, for some reason, he couldn't put it like this. Maybe because he had told Sulley, not so long ago, that he was on his own from now on? But they'd been over that, right?

Still, Sulley _had_ to understand that he couldn't play favorites here. This was too important to just let go. Mike knew all too well what that kind of thing felt like for people who were _not_ favorites.

He bit his lip and then tried again. "Sul, look. I promise that if I feel you're making a mistake, I'm gonna speak up, okay? How's that?"

"I still think you should have been the one to run the company…" Sulley mumbled.

"Sul," Mike said again, stalling for time. He had trouble deciding how to put this. "We've been through this. From what I can tell, you're doing a fine job. This change in our energy gathering method, and the change in our view of the system in general, were _your_ doing entirely. You _deserve_ this. And as for me, why would I _want_ to run the company? You just offered me my dream job! You gave me something I _knew_ I could never have! Nothing in the world, nothing in _both_ worlds, is gonna get me away from that!"

Sulley was still staring, but then he started smiling. He seemed relieved, actually. Mike wasn't entirely sure what to make of it.

"Well, except for what needs to come before that, obviously," he added after a moment's thought, and put a hand to his temple in an effort to clear his fuzzy memory. "You said something about needing my help. About technology." And about leaving to die, he suddenly realized. But that was nonsense. Sulley wouldn't die for several decades. Must've been those hallucinations.

Sulley turned his attention back to his stack of papers, but as if on cue, he seemed to have found what he'd been looking for. "There you go." He pulled a single document out and put it down on the desk for Mike to read.

Mike frowned a little at the sheer mass of numbers, and it took him a moment to make sense of what he was looking at. It was a stats table like the ones printed on the backs of Scare Cards, but for all Laughter gath-… er, Comedians in the company. Something confidential, actually, something he wasn't supposed to see before publication, but he knew Sulley had to have a reason for showing him.

There were the usual Performance Indicators, adapted to the new method - SPK, Laughter average, full cans… The values in that last column were _abnormally_ low, especially considering how much more powerful than Scream Laughter was. But on the other hand, there were surprisingly few dead doors. Laughter totals were low because everyone had just started at zero… and then he spotted the new column.

"Accidents?" he read aloud. And why were those numbers so _high_? In a sudden panic attack, he scanned the table for his brothers. Don and Squishy hadn't had any accidents, thank goodness, but the twins had had a few, and Art's full dozen ranked among the highest numbers in the listing.

Sulley kept silent, just watched as Mike absorbed it all, and that in itself told him that this was not what he was assuming. But he had to ask anyway. "If anything had happened to anyone, you would've told me, right? You wouldn't let me find out like _this_, would you?"

"No one's dead," Sulley assured him, but when Mike looked up from the document, he saw the frown on his friend's face, the way he pursed his lips. "And 'accidents' basically means 'overloads.'"

"Technology issues…" Mike murmured, trying to make the connection. "You're saying that our technology can't handle Laughter? That it causes overloads for some reason?"

Sulley nodded. "Laughter is ten times more powerful than Scream," he repeated a line Mike had heard many times by now. "And the Scream Cans aren't designed to hold that kind of power, but we don't have anything else. So we have to operate at a fraction of our capacity. You know, make the kids laugh just a little. Make sure the canisters don't overload. But we can't _really_ control how much the kids laugh, and if it's too much, the canisters can't hold it all in. It's not even the Comedians who are in trouble then, it's the assistants standing next to the doors."

"Oh, my gosh…" Mike breathed. _Now_ he knew why Sulley looked so worn out. "The things keep going off!"

"All over the place," Sulley confirmed.

"We need to _stop_ this!" Mike burst out, clutching the armrests of his chair. "It's only a matter of time until someone dies!" In front of his inner eye, he saw a vivid mental image of Dean Hardscrabble's prized canister, whizzing through the Hall of Scaring so long ago and just barely missing bashing people's skulls in.

"We can't," Sulley argued calmly, as if he had already thought through all the possibilities Mike could come up with. "The energy crisis is in full swing. The city is pressuring us to deliver every last shred of energy we can provide. If we don't, they're closing down the factory, laying everyone off, and turning this back into a Scream gathering company. I tried arguing this with the higher-ups, but their reasoning is that energy gathering has _always_ been dangerous, so they can't see the problem."

"Sul, it never was," Mike muttered. "The kids aren't toxic. We both know that."

Sulley smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "But _they_ don't know that," he pointed out.

And the two of them couldn't just go and tell them. The CDA had been adamant about that. "The CDA," Mike muttered, half getting out of his chair. "Of course, we need to talk to the CDA… they have to see… everyone needs to know that it's…"

"The CDA aren't helping," Sulley cut him off. "I tried that. They're pretty close-mouthed about their reasons, but they insist that the public cannot learn the truth about the toxicity. In other words, we only have three options. We close down the factory, we press on the way we are doing now and risk permanent injury or worse, or we get someone to redesign our canisters and eliminate the risk."

"But who could…" And then it finally hit him. "…oh. But, Sul, I'm no good with technology." When Sulley had said he needed his help, Mike had expected him to be talking about something that would actually make use of his talents.

Sulley gave a sigh. "Well, I checked. You're the only person in the entire company who has both taken Scream Can Design and put in the effort to actually learn it. Yeah, many of us officially studied the topic, and I asked the others, but the knowledge didn't stick because they just weren't interested, and the stuff's too complicated to start learning it now. And I don't even have to ask the ones that haven't been to college; Scream Can Design isn't exactly something you take on as a hobby. You're the only one who's well-prepared, so I can't really think of anyone else to do this. Some have tried, of course… heck, _I_ tried, I really didn't wanna dump this on you, but it's not just that I have too much other stuff to deal with, it's that it's near impossible without at least a _bit_ of knowledge about the subject."

Mike frowned. Something about that explanation bothered him. Oh, wait, yes, of course. "Technology is Randall's thing," he pointed out. "Why aren't you telling _him_ to do that? I'm sure he knows at least a _little_ bit about Scream Cans, and he probably wouldn't mind indulging in saving all our lives and rubbing it in our faces, either." At least there had been Scream Cans attached to the… no, he shouldn't be thinking about that.

Sulley blinked. "Randall's not here."

Mike felt his hands start to shake. Not here. Something in Sulley's tone made him sure that "not here" didn't mean "too proud to be working for me so he's working at another company." "Not here" could only mean…

"He's not _back_ yet?!" Mike blurted out, not entirely sure whether to be horrified or relieved. This way, Randall could not hurt him any more than he had, but _why_ was he…

Sulley shrugged. "Well, we did choose one of the more remote doors. He'll probably be a while. Maybe that one had no safety door."

"Sul, there's _always_ a safety door!" Mike snapped. "Why do you think we always found one when he chased us through half the door vault? _No_ door in this entire company is more than a few days away from the next one! He should've been back at least a _week_ ago!"

Had something happened? He felt a cold chill at the thought. If it had, it had been their fault. But, no, they had just tried to protect Boo. But what was _taking_ Randall so long?

"Point is, he's not here," Sulley repeated. "So I'd say you're the best man for the job."

Mike tried to focus on the matter at hand. Things were dire. As cruel as it felt even to himself, Randall would have to wait. "So let me get this straight. You want me to use my knowledge from Scream Can Design, come up with a design for Laughter Cans, and make sure there are no more overloads?"

Sulley smiled at his summary. "I'd say you _are_ back to your usual standards."

* * *

It felt to Mike as if they'd been talking for ages, but when they left the office to head to the Laugh Floors, it was still morning. Sulley had suggested Mike take a look at one of them to see with his own eye what the problem was.

"Sul, you don't have to accompany me," Mike insisted. "I know where the floors are. Don't you have important stuff to do? Paperwork, letting the board of directors lull you to sleep, something like that?"

Sulley chuckled. "Right now, the most important thing for me to do is to make sure that none of my employees get hurt doing their jobs. And that's what I'm doing."

Mike had no idea how to oppose that logic.

They passed a few people in the hallways. Most of them were being good employees and politely greeting Sulley when he walked past, but many also waved at or called out to Mike when they caught sight of him.

Maybe Sulley had been right. Maybe Mike really _had_ been missed that much.

Something else suddenly came to him. "What about the rest of the company?" he asked. "You know, the departments that _don't_ gather energy." He was pretty sure the press office had to be drowning in work right now.

"Well, marketing's pretty much dead," Sulley sighed. "But that was to be expected. Laughter is still new, and people seem to think that making kids laugh is not as _cool_ as making them scream, so merchandise and ads are at an all-time low. Everyone else is more or less okay, though. I managed to keep way more people than I…"

But he stopped dead in his tracks, right in mid-step. Mike stared at him for a moment, but Sulley wasn't looking at him, was fixing a point in the distance. Following his gaze, Mike spotted two young monsters he didn't know, so probably interns, wheel a trash can full of broken lamps through the corridors.

Turning back, he found his friend still sort of frozen. "Uh, Sul?" he asked tentatively. There was nothing about trash that should evoke this kind of reaction. But something tugged at his memory. Sulley on the verge of tears, protectively clutching a cube of garbage to his chest…

And then it hit him.

Boo.

Sulley was missing Boo. _That_ was why he looked so worn out. He was _depressed_. And those lamps that had just rolled by _did_ look a lot like those from her costume.

Briefly closing his eye, Mike placed one hand on his friend's arm. "She's with her family now," he whispered. "She should be happy."

That finally snapped Sulley out of his stupor, and he seemed confused for a moment, before hastily, and wordlessly, rushing off to their original destination.

Biting his lip, Mike followed him. He could kick Roz for shredding Boo's door. He really wanted to. Sulley had been so _happy_ when Boo had been nearby! His friend had _finally_ had someone to care about - someone but him, that was. Sometimes, Mike felt guilty for leaving Sulley all on his own in the apartment just so that he could run off and spend time with Celia.

There had to be a way to help Sulley get over parting with Boo, right? Mike just needed to find it.

* * *

When they first entered one of the Laugh Floors, Mike was sure they'd taken a wrong turn somewhere. The whole place was such a bustle of noise and activity that it clashed horribly with the precise efficiency he was used to from their Scaring years.

After the initial shock, though, he recognized some people, and, just as Sulley and Celia had both told him, while there were a few former Scarers, the great majority of the La-… Comedians had formerly been assistants, just like he had been. There was Fungus just entering a door, Betty coming out of one, and there, standing in front of one desk, brooding over a file, there was…

"Squishy!" Mike called, feeling his face split into a grin. "Hey, Squishy!"

Squishy had to have been deep in thought, as he seemed confused for a moment, turning his head in all directions, but when he saw the two of them, his expression lit up as if the sun had just come through. "Mike!" he yelled, drawing everyone's eyes as he rushed over and threw himself into Mike's arms. "You're back! I had no idea you were coming back today!"

There was an awful lot of hugging going on, Mike noted with a wry smirk, but he had expected his brothers, at the very least, to react like that.

"Mike!" another voice also rang out, and next he knew, he was tackled by a ball of purple fur.

"Okay, guys, _guys_," he laughed, trying to shove Art off of himself because he rather liked his eye hair-free. "Let me breathe. And I'd like to point out that you're slacking off on your work in front of your boss!"

He had all three of them laughing at the comment, including said boss, and noted with delight how natural that new relationship seemed to be for them.

Maybe it wouldn't be so bad for him, either. Maybe adding that new layer of professionalism to the way he and Sulley treated each other wouldn't damage their friendship, after all.

"Since when have you been here?" Squishy exclaimed. "We didn't even see you enter!"

Mike gave a shrug. "Morning shift, just like you guys, I suppose. Celia and I came together; you know she doesn't have far to go from her apartment."

Art frowned. "You mean Sulley wasn't there to pick you up?"

Mike felt more than saw Sulley stiffening at the comment, and immediately raised his hands to fend off the implied criticism. "Art, don't plant that bug in my brain. I'm sure it wasn't neglect. Sulley had work to do."

Sulley relaxed almost instantly. Hm. His behavior was really odd today, in a way that couldn't be attributed to missing Boo. Maybe it wasn't that, after all, or the boss-employee relationship, but _something_ was definitely bothering his best friend.

To distract the others from that fact, Mike smirked. "And just to remind you, _you_ weren't there, either." He really hoped he could crack that joke without raising any false feelings of guilt or embarrassment.

But while Squishy immediately started blubbering apologies, Art just burst into laughter. "That's right, man!" he bellowed.

Sulley was also smirking now, and said… _something_ in return. For some reason, Mike couldn't make out the words any longer. All of a sudden, he felt apprehension creep up inside of him. As if danger was approaching.

And then… a metallic sound.

With a scream, Mike scrambled away from the entrance so abruptly that he almost knocked over Art and Squishy.

But there was nothing there. Just an intern with a cart full of Scream Cans.

"Mike?" Sulley's voice. He sounded worried. But somehow, Mike couldn't bring himself to tear his gaze away from that cart.

A deafening bang behind them made them all flinch. Now Mike whipped around, and what he saw stopped him dead in his tracks yet again.

One of the Scream Cans had blown up. Not whizzed away with a screeching noise. _Blown up_. The force had ripped the canister apart from its Door Station, and Waxford was writhing on the ground, curled into a ball and clutching most of his eyes with his tentacles.

Within seconds, Sulley sprang into action. "Art, have Celia call an ambulance! Squishy, check if we need the safety door to get Frank back to - oh, whatever, just go and get it!" As he was barking orders, he rushed over to the big, red button, the one that had called the CDA in the past, but that function had obviously changed. As Sulley hammered his fist onto it, all the power was cut from the Laugh Floor, save for the doors which were currently active, probably so that no one else could be trapped in the human world.

Mike wanted so badly to help, but he had no idea what to do, no knowledge about what the procedures were in a situation like this. Art and Squishy had disappeared immediately, and everyone else was visibly following some sort of safety protocol.

Waxford was bleeding. Mike could see that much, but Sulley was now kneeling next to him, and judging by his friend's expression, maybe it wasn't as bad as it looked. It seemed Waxford would be okay. Which was incredible luck; he could easily have lost more than half his eyes in that explosion. Or his life.

Sulley was right. This was their top priority. Those accidents had to stop. And if Mike was the only one who could do that, well, then he needed no safety protocols and procedures to tell him what to do about the situation.

He had to find a way to stop this.

* * *

**Note: **Remember, chapter two will most likely take a while. But if you made it all the way down here, I'd appreciate a little concrit or feedback in general. :)


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